


Aftermath

by Jolinar773



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 19:33:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21258497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jolinar773/pseuds/Jolinar773
Summary: Leaving Hawke in the Fade was one of the most difficult decisions the Inquisitor has ever made. What repercussions that decision would have, he could never have predicted, until it was too late. By then, the only thing he could do was try to fix things and hope for the best.





	Aftermath

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has been in the making since DAI first came out. Finally I got around to finish all DLCs too a few days ago and returned to it with renewed vigour :3 Pretty sure there are a few with similar topic out there, but couldn't find one that tells the whole story, so here it is, hopefully :)  
Set somewhere between the end of the main story and beginning of Trespasser, there may be a few hints to other DLCs.  
Pairings are as mentioned above, and it is rated E for a reason ;)  
If there is someone interested in story but not smutt, please skip text marked with these: **  
Also, I am not a native speaker and do not have a beta, so apologies for any typos and such...  
Thank you and enjoy ;)

Shadows grew as the sun began to descend beyond the snow-covered peaks of Frostack Mountains. Pale blue of the sky slowly tinged with tangerine, before the indigo of coming night spread over Skyhold like a blanket. Stars peeked out of the darkness, one at a time just like lights began to flicker to life below.

People retreated into the safety of the fortress walls for the night, and soon only guards remained. Torches they were holding made them look like fireflies fluttering here and there across the grounds they so diligently patrolled night after night. There weren't quite as many as usual, but it was enough.

Smile spread over the Inquisitor's lips as his eyes watched them for a while before the entrance into the grand hall closed as well. For once life was peaceful. Nothing out of the ordinary. In a way, he thought, this calm serenity felt a little boring, compared to the hell he had been thrown into by the events at the Conclave.

Still, there was nothing wrong with enjoying some boring every now and then. It even put a bit of a spring into his step as he continued on his way to his quarters, carrying a tray of goodies he swiped from the kitchens. Maker knows he hasn't enjoyed a good meal in what felt like forever - expecially with the right company.

Happily stuffing a tiny cupcake into his mouth as he ascended through the tower, the Herald used his foot to somewhat clumsily open the door to his room. He then stopped in his tracks completely, his gaze followed a trail of small, fiery orbs floating lazily a few iches off the ground on each side of every other step, all the way up to the railing above. Their soft, orange glow created an intimate atmosphere only boosted by some kind of mysterious fragrance he couldn't quite place filling the air.

“Finally. I was beginning to think you've gotten lost again.” voice spoke as the Inquisitor finally reached his destination. Its owner peered at him over the table in a corner, twinkle in his eyes that spread over his features in a teasing smile.

"That happened only once and it was your fault." came out a swift response acompanied by an irritated click of the tongue.

Dorian seemed to enjoy his lover's annoyance. His lips pouted sligtly to accompany his thoughtful expression as he crossed the space between them in a few short strides.

"Naturally. You must have been so enamored with me from the very beginning, you simply could not help yourself." he said smugly, even as he swiped the tray with lightning speed.

The Herald raised his eyebrows. His train of thought followed the memory to where they first arrived at Skyhold, and he finally found the time to give himself a tour. Of course, there was the little scuffle between Varric and Cassandra over the arrival of Hawke weighing on his mind as well, but Dorian was not exactly wrong. It was him the Inquisitor had been looking for at the time, after all.

Of course he would never admit to anything. Stroking the mage's already overgrown ego could result in his head floating off his shoulders. Whatever rebuttal he had prepared, however, never left his lips, because as quickly as he swiped the food from him, Dorian stuffed another cupkace into his lover's mouth to shut him up. And as if that wasn't enough, his long, graceful fingers trailed the line of the Inquisitor's jaw to draw his gaze as he leaned in to taste the sweetness straight from the source.  
Involuntary moan escaped the Herald, and it was all the tevinter Altus needed to exploit his advantage.

*** ***

Dinner forgotten somewhere on the table, all it took was a few more heartbeats for the two lovers to tumble onto the bed in a tangle of limbs. Feather-soft touches on the nape of his neck alone made the Inquisitor mad with want. He closed his eyes against the heat flooding his cheeks as he buried his face into the sheets. Closely familiar tingling sensation began curling below the level of his waist, spreading lower.

“You southerners.” Dorian clicked his tongue, fully in control of the situation. “What is it you say? All bark and no bite?” his breath tickled the sensitive skin below his lover’s earlobe.

The sound this coaxed out of the Herald was almost too delicious to resist. Almost.

Sliding along the curve of his waist, the Altus once more rolled onto his side and pulled his lover with him to rest his back against his chest.

They had perfect view through the open balcony, where the light of girlands of stars like diamonds still paled in comparion with the ivory pearl of a full moon. Its eerie, almost otherworldy glow somehow reflected within the Inquisitor’s eyes as he shifted to allow Dorian better access between his thighs.

“So close already?” the Altus whispered provocatively, one hand slipping under his lover’s side while the other slithered round his waist to pull him closer. “My dear amatus, if we do not relax more often, your pitiful lack of stamina might rob me of all the fun.”

Even as he said it, the mage rubbed against him in such a way the Inquisitor couldn’t have uttered any kind of coherent retort even if his life depended on it. Then again, for once he enjoyed being unable to do more than writhe with pleasure, the only real thing in his whole wide world being experienced fingers exploring where Dorian knew exactly it would produce the desired effect. The man did love teasing far too much -and usually that was a very good thing. However, tonight the Inquisitor knew he was not going to last nearly as long as his lover would prefer.

But fortunately –or perhaps unfortunately for him- even the great Dorian Pavus could only take so much.

Indeed, they haven’t had much time for each other lately, thus despite his words things have taken their toll on Dorian’s usually extraordinary patience and endurance as well. Naturally this did not stop him from trying nevertheless.  
Hooking his free arm below the Inquisitor’s knee, he spread his thighs further apart, poking tentatively from behind to listen whether or not he was allowed to proceed. His lover’s fingers reaching back to wind through Dorian’s hair, while his body arched to meet his lover’s throbbing need left no room for misinterpretation.

To the tevinter’s surprise he was allowed much more. This night, for the first time, his lover offered all that he was to him without reservations and Dorian would not let this opportunity slip away.

Changing the angle ever so slightly he pulled his arm free from beneath his lover to prop himself up just enough to lean into the tight heat awaiting intrusion. His movement was slow and delicate as not to overpower pleasure with pain and although the Inquisitor momentarily tensed, his muscles relaxed again as he adjusted. Releasing Dorian he instinctively grabbed the mattress for purchase, rolling almost all the way onto his belly to keep himself from sliding too much in the rhythm of his lover’s thrusts. There were teeth biting at the crook of his neck and heated huffs carried into his ear, in sync with his own, somewhat muffled by velvety sheets.

The Inquisitor’s body tensed as they both reached the peak of extasy almost simultaneously, unable to prolong it anymore. Cry scraped through his throat and he shivered at the sensation of burning lava flowing into him, filling him up and spilling over, pushing him the rest of the way towards release until he too spilled over Dorian's hand.

In no hurry to end their joining, the mage scooped it up and raised his fingers in front of his eyes. Inspecting them thoroughly he then allowed himself a luxurious taste of the sweet creature collapsed beneath him.

Watching from the corner of his eyes the Inquisitor’s cheeks burned with embarrassment. It seemed to amuse the tevinter, for he moved to turn his lover within the circle of his arms to face him. Then he captured his lips in another deep, lustful kiss, creating a bolt of sweet electricity that ran through the Inquisitor’s still numb body. His insides felt as if there was a swarm of butterflies trying hard to flutter their way out.

Before he even realized what he was doing he pushed himself up and pulled Dorian along to sit up and rest his back against the head of the bed. On all fours, he deliberately slowly slid along his lover’s torso, coming to a halt only at the beautiful curve of his hips. The lingering dull ache below his abdomen restricted his movement somewhat, however, and so he traced his steps back up to capture Dorian’s lips once more.

The mage’s breath hitched in his chest and he reached to wind through his lover’s silky hair. It flowed like velvet beneath his fingers and did nothing to halt the renewed wave of arousal gathering between his legs. He delved into the kiss, their tongues sliding along each other in an attempt to overpower the other. Few heartbeats later they were both once again well past the point of tasteful restraint –whatever that meant- and had every intention to finish what they started.

Repeatedly, if possible. 

*** ***

The both of them then drifted off to sleep hours later, utterly spent and exhausted, sharing the warmth of each other’s embrace. Contented smile graced the Altus’ features, his eyes spoke of things he did not yet dare to give voice to, and it was enough for the Inquisitor to drown in their depths as he descended into a dreamless abyss.

**o*O*o**

Morning came all too soon. It seemed some part of him decided he had slept long enough, or perhaps it was the rumbling sound of what could only be a trebuchet firing that stirred his consciousness - either way the Inquisitor opened his eyes with some difficulty to stare into a blurry ceiling he couldn’t make out at first.

Then, lazily, the realization dawned upon him – _what kind of idiot would bring a siege engine INSIDE the hold?_

His body quite unwillingly catching up to his awakening mind, he sat up on his bed and listened. No, it could not have been, surely. Who could possibly be foolish enough to attack them here at Skyhold itself? Even if someone tried, for whatever reason, he would have been informed long before that happened.

But just as the Inquisitor thought his own imagination had to be playing tricks on him, there was another crash, so close this time it felt as if the walls around him were about to give in at any moment.

He jumped up in alarm, realizing just then that he was alone in the room, although he distinctly remembered Dorian keeping him company for the better part of the night. The air and the sheets still carried the mage’s enticing fragrance.

Where had he gone at a time like this?

Another tremor severed the Inquisitor’s thoughts like a knife. With a shake of his head he quickly dressed up and rushed down the stairs.

No sooner had he burst through the door, than his eyes fell on his amatus standing in the middle of the main hall. Staff hit the ground with a thundering spark of magic and a volley of elemental projectiles took to the air, all aimed somewhere toward the corner Varric usually occupied.

Frown creasing his brows, eyes followed in the general direction of Dorian's spell. At first, the Inquisitor had every intention to pick this up with his lover right there and then. Opening his mouth, however, proved almost fatal as one colourful bolt of energy ricocheted off something he could not see, then shot straight past him and smashed clean through the door he kept open.

Wide-eyed, his mind completely blank from shock the Herald turned his head to where a hole the size of his head now gaped back at him. Reasonably perplexed, he then moved to the side to close the door to check that at the exact same spot, there was no smaller crater biting fairly deep into the solid stone wall.

At first his thoughts were sluggish, but as everything began to click into place a very disturbing image formed in his mind – that could very well have been his own face reduced to minced meat. Alas, once more he found himself unable to form whatever words should probably come to mind in such a situation, for the second look at Dorian revealed something the Inquisitor thought he would never glimpse upon those handsome features.

“Amatus!” the Altus’ voice broke to a whisper when he turned to notice that the missile he had so narrowly avoided almost decapitated his lover. His face was the mask of horror when their eyes met; fear mixed with desperation and exhaustion. It was clear now that he was barely standing upright, singed in places, battered and bruised as if he had just tackled with an Ogre. “Don’t…!”

Whatever he was going to say, however, never reached the Inquisitor’s ears. From within the cloud of soot and dust still blocking the view of the other side of the hall something emerged, seemingly no more than a blur of strange bluish-white light. It shot right at Dorian, slicing though his staff and impaling him.

The tevinter mage doubled over, blood appeared at the corner of his mouth. His eyes still held those of his lover, who stood paralyzed, unable to process as Dorian was raised up in the air, then viciously thrown across the hall with enough force to break bones. His back slammed into the wall and he crumpled to the ground.

Ground covered in blood.

It was then the Inquisitor could finally see the whole devastation - his hall littered with corpses of both Inquisition soldiers as well as Cullen’s templars. And there, in the middle of all the carnage stood the culprit.

He was an elf, yet looked completely different from any the Inquisitor has ever seen. Too lanky even for his own kind, still his was undoubtedly the body of a seasoned warrior. The predatory way he moved as well as lines of muscles shifting beneath tanned skin were a testament to how foolish it would be to judge this book by its cover - in case the great-sword strapped to his back had failed to do the job by itself. It looked to be as big as its weilder was, in fact, because he seemed to hunch a little beneath the weight.

But neither strands of ivory hair lining emerald eyes filled with fury, nor the blood-red scarf adorning his armoured wrist made him stand out as much as the strange markings covering almost every visible inch of his skin. From prominent chin they stretched, pearl white, over his entire body - judging by what little of him was not protected by leather or steel.

And as those eyes fell upon him, markings began to emanate a soft glow, like veins of lyrium branded into the elf’s very flesh.

“Inquisitor, I presume." came out a flat state of a fact. "The stories do you too much credit. I hope you prove more of a challenge than your _tevinter pet_.” he growled, spitting the words as if they were poison on his tongue.

The Herald did not hear him, however - his gaze was still fixed on Dorian regardless of the danger he now found himself in.

As numbness lifted like a veil over his thoughts, instead of simple fear, anger too swelled within him, born of anguish and loss of the one person in the whole of Thedas most precious to him. As cold fingers of dread coiled round his spine and through the cage of his ribs to grip at his heart, the Herald of Andraste felt like breaking.

Although the sensation lasted mere seconds, for him it might well have been a century. It was at that moment something finally awakened deep inside him, unknown and painful, yet strangely familiar. He felt power surging through his veins, gathering around the Anchor in the palm of his right hand as it began pulsing with sickly green light.

The air crackled with magic as it lashed out and in another second the Inquisitor launched at his opponent with the speed and strength of a dragon. To an adrastian it must have looked as if he was about to bring the wrath of the Maker down upon the elf’s head, and indeed he burst through his adversary’s defenses with ease, catching him entirely off guard.

The elf stumbled back in surprise. Obviously, he did not expect to encounter a power he knew virtually nothing about. Or he did not believe the rumours that must have spread across Thedas by now; too bad for him, because the Inquisitor had no intention to give him a chance to recover. He struck again and again - his thrusts short, quick and unpredictable. For the moment the tables were turned.  
It was all the elven intruder was able to do to block the rain of glowing fists. There was no pause, no weakness and no way to stop them. There was also no Herald behind them, for the one fighting was like a demon of rage.

Or so it seemed, until suddenly everything came to a halt.

Cry of torment resounded through the cold hall of stone as the Inquisitor fell on one knee, clutching his right hand, where the Anchor burned so brightly, it was blinding. It tore at his flesh as if it was about to claim the whole of him, and the anger began to dissipate, replaced by pain crippling his body and mind.

Ever since Corypheus’ death the Inquisitor felt the Anchor more and more, prickling as it build excess energy that had nowhere to go. He had the feeling things would get worse before -and if- they got better.

Gathering all the power of his considerable will, he nevertheless forced his gaze away once more from the pile of limbs that was his lover, feeling more than knowing for certain that he yet lived - for now. That knowledge like a beacon of hope shone through the darkness that threatened to consume him and alowed him to stand, facing the man who dared lay a hand on those he had sworn to protect.

“Impressive.” the elf's voice carried to him as if through a fog. “Though it seems you do not fully control your power.”

He looked almost regretful as he reached out, armoured fingers closed round the Inquisitor’s neck and tightened. He gasped for breath, but had no strength to counter the arm that threatened to squeeze all the so much needed air out of his lungs. The emerald hue dissipated altogether, leaving him somewhat hollow and vulnerable, the excruciating pain from but moments before reduced to a dull ache spreading through his bones.

With yet more surprise he realized he was being raised up in the air high enough for the tips of his toes to barely reach the ground.

“Why are you doing this?” he managed to rasp in hopes of at least postponing the inevitable. There might be hope left if he can play his cards well enough to allow everyone else the time to realize something was wrong.

The elven warrior had no intention of humoring him, however. “I have no obligation to explain myself to you, Inquisitor.” he responded at last in a deep voice heavy with loathing. Mercilessly, he squeezed tighter, his fingers swathed in that strange bluish glow as they burrowed into the Herald's skin, then through it to snap his neck.

It was a strange sensation, he noted even as his vision darkened and he felt death’s cold embrace. He would have laughed if he had the strength. Surviving a magister who created the blights only to die inside his own home like this. Still his last thought was of Dorian.

And then many things happened almost at once.

With a metal clunk the elf’s blade fell to the ground beside them and then the grip on the Inquisitor’s neck weakened steadily but a hair’s breath away from severing his spine. Like something pulling against it, the Inquisitor began to slip onto the cold stone tiles, wheezing and coughing, trying to catch his breath.

When he looked up, he realized the reason why. Slender, beautifully carved dagger was pressed under the elf’s chin, the hand holding him seconds ago twisted behind his back.  
Yet one more person the Inquisitor did not know -a woman this time- stood there, fully in control of the situation at hand. Her bronzed skin and dark hair gave away her rivainy origin, more so her full hips and ample bosom. She glanced down at him, one amber eye winking playfully from underneath a solitary strand of hair flowing loosely round her face. She was glittering with gold and the Inquisitor caught a scent of salt and sea.

Then her gaze hardened. “Don’t be a fool, sweetheart.” she said softly, though there could be no doubt she would have slit the elf’s throat if he chose to resist.

“I was, when I let Hawke go with Varric and his new _friend_. A mistake I’m simply attempting to correct.” he said in a way that made the Inquisitor’s insides shift uncomfortably.

Hawke… so that’s what this was about. Then this man must be…

“Fenris,” shadow moved across the rivainy’s face like a cloud across the sun. With that whispered name they shared something very personal. Something he felt he was intruding upon. “Revenge will not bring back the dead.” she said somberly.

“And you should know by now, it won't make you feel better either.” Varric walked toward them, Bianca at hand and ready to fire.

One whole conversation happened between the three of them with a single eye contact. Then the dwarf lowered his crossbow.

It was no longer necessary.

**Author's Note:**

> One down, two more chapters to go. Hope you liked it, reviews and thoughts very welcome :) I'm still struggling with the machanics of last chapter :)


End file.
